You're Wound Up Like A Weapon
by MadBitchWithABox
Summary: Merlin & Arthur are roaming around the castle, breaking an Uther decreed curfew. This gets them into a bit of a predicament, but the ever gallant Prince comes up with a drastic plan to save their hinds. Merlin on the other hand, whines a bit about looking like a girl. All in all, this is one big fluffy mess. Arthur/Merlin pairing.


**A/N: To my incredible dismay, I do not own Merlin or any of the show's brilliant characters. I do, however, have an extremely warped imagination that plagues me with Merthur type nonsense daily. This is my first attempt at a Merlin fic and I really hope it isn't as shitty as I think it is. It would be beyond lovely if you could write me a review after reading this – I need something to convince myself that I'm not entirely mental.**

**I would also like to take a moment and thank my darling friend Taylor for beta-ing my story. She is obviously a saint considering the fact that she puts up with me. Our ims consist mostly of me babbling about Merthur and a never-ending onslaught of Brolin pictures. It may seem harmless, but she doesn't watch the show… Imagine how you would feel haha! Anyway, I have rambled on enough… Thanks a ton Tay! Love you forever!**

**Oh! & I almost forgot! Happy reading!**

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"The guards are coming!" Merlin whispered urgently, turning his concerned eyes in Arthur's direction.

"Yes, yes! I can see that for myself thank you. Gods, you're an idiot." Arthur mumbled, trying to pull on a stone lever, "Now shh! I've almost got this passageway open." A moment passed, the only audible sounds were the clanging of armor and Arthur's grunts of effort. The tension in the air could be cut with a sword. Merlin was worried. He could definitely defeat those guards with his magic, but at what cost? Arthur would hate him. He had been lying to him for so long. His life wasn't worth living if he couldn't protect the Prince. The young sorcerer sighed quietly and peered around the corner once more. To his dismay, the guards were now only a few feet away.

"Sire," Merlin started, becoming more nervous by the second, "the guards are really close!"

Arthur looked up from the lever and pulled a face. Merlin was such a chicken! Why couldn't the Prince have a better manservant? A competent one. One that never complained about his given chores. He had attempted sacking Merlin before, but Arthur was never able to complete said task. Every time he would bring it up, something inside the Prince stirred, something that told him he would regret it. At least he was easy to make fun of. It was with that observation that Arthur constructed an amusingly brilliant plan.

"Take off your neckerchief," Arthur directed with an air of authority.

"What?"

"Merlin, just do what I say for once!"

"Oh fine!" the manservant relented, whining in exasperation, "Now what am I supposed to do with it?"

"Put it on your head."

"Beg your pardon?"

"You heard me," the Prince said sternly, his eyes shining mischievously. _This is hilarious_, Arthur thought, _definitely a good idea_. He would be lying if he said he didn't get a kick out of ordering Merlin around. He was just so beyond help, it was hard not to take advantage of his manservant's stupidity every now and again. Yet, Merlin always stayed loyal to the young prince no matter how much Arthur abused him. As if to prove that point, Merlin did as Arthur said and tied the scrap of blue fabric underneath his chin. Arthur smirked as he took in the sight of his manservant before him. He looked like a total girl! The future king suppressed a laugh with his hand, disregarding the death glare Merlin was currently casting his way.

"I look like a girl don't I? Please tell me this actually has a point. I swear if this is one last desperate act before we die I will kill you myself!"

"Merlin, you are addressing your Prince, not some ruffian," Arthur indicated, grinning while his eyes raked over the young warlock. The Prince had to admit it – Merlin was beautiful. The pale moonlight filtering into the hall illuminated features that were already aggravatingly handsome and made them otherworldly. The striking angles of his cheekbones were more prominent, his nose sloped delicately, his full lips appeared lusher, his dark blue eyes clearer, and his soot black lashes infinite. There was still something else though, something through all the physical attraction that was purely chemical. Something powerful and frightening that pulled him in every direction at once. A familiar feeling started to coil in Arthur's stomach, white-hot blood rushing in a singular direction. The Prince had never felt this way about anyone.

Merlin shifted from side to side, becoming very self-conscious under Arthur's unyielding gaze. He cleared his throat. Nothing. He cleared it again and the Prince finally snapped back to reality. Arthur smiled sheepishly, unapologetic. _What was that about_, the young sorcerer wondered. _Could Arthur- no, he couldn't. It's impossible_, Merlin told himself. Why would the Prince, the most eligible man in all of Camelot, consider him as anything more than a servant? Besides, Merlin constantly witnessed the way Arthur flirted with the women of the court. It was painfully obvious that the Prince was a ladies man through and through. Thinking about it now, the crack in the warlock's heart widened; it was beyond injustice. Not only did Merlin have to hide his feelings for Arthur, but he also had to conceal his powers from him too. No good could come from such a predicament, yet before Merlin could ponder it any further, shouts erupted from down the corridor.

Arthur briefly glanced to his left; the guards would see them in a matter of seconds. Time to put his plan into action. Without a single word of warning, the Prince leaned forward and pressed his lips to Merlin's, trapping him against the wall. Arthur's hands cupped the sorcerer's face, while Merlin stood stalk still, in complete shock. He had entirely no idea what was going on. His mind, usually filled with inner monologue, was blank. The Prince, on the other hand, was relishing the moment. _So this_, he thought, _is what kissing Merlin feels like_. The guards passed without a second glance, snickering like a bunch gossiping schoolgirls.

"Did you see that lass?" one guard guffawed, wiggling his eyebrows.

"Yes!" another guard agreed, "I'd like to have a go with her." The group laughed collectively, keeping on their way.

Once the guards were out of earshot, Arthur unhappily released his grip on Merlin and stepped back. He stared intently at his manservant, silently pleading him to say something - anything. The silence remained. Arthur wanted to rip out his own heart, any remedy to alleviate the excruciatingly tight pressure that was building in his chest. The silence was absolutely unbearable. Did Merlin truly feel this way about him? Had he read the signs incorrectly? Sure this kiss, if you could really call it that, was primarily an escape route, but the Prince couldn't help how shattered he felt. Seeing no other option, Arthur spoke, plastering a fake smile on his face, "Sorry about that," he lied through his teeth, feeling like an utter prat, "It was the only way we wouldn't get caught." The sorcerer nodded numbly in agreement. Great, Arthur thought bitterly, I fucked up everything.

Little did the future king know, Merlin was actually rather pleased with the current situation. Perhaps the sorcerer could have handled it better – leaping into Arthur's arms, declaring his undying love, but Merlin remained faceted to where he stood. There were too many "what ifs" that were writhing in the back of his mind. What if the Prince rejected him? What if Arthur never spoke to him again? All these questions raced through Merlin's mind, practically tripping at the pace. He had a choice. Option one; he could kiss Arthur again. If the Prince rejected him, Merlin would surely be crushed. On the bright side, he would no longer have doubt Arthur's feelings towards him. Option two; laugh it off and pretend nothing ever happened. With this option there would only be the consequence of uncertainty. The sorcerer mulled it over for a moment longer, his gaze still fixed on Arthur. He _had_ to kiss him again.

As soon as their lips met for a second time, Merlin could feel the magic coursing intensely through his veins, making his blood boil underneath his skin. Initially, the kiss remained rather chaste, their lips pressed together firmly, willing the other to make the first move. Arthur, forever the leader, gave in first. He grabbed at Merlin's hips in earnest, yearning for more contact. His fingers dug at the bone and sensitive flesh, eliciting a surprised gasp from the sorcerer. Surely, there would be tiny purple bruises blooming on his skin in no time. Merlin, of course, couldn't care less and sought out something to occupy his hands with. He carded his fingers through Arthur's sandy hair, trailing his hands down the nape of the young man's neck, across his collar bones, finally resting them on the Prince's toned biceps.

Their kissing became more fervent as Arthur boldly pushed his tongue into Merlin's mouth. His tongue moved lithely through the their lips, across Merlin's teeth, painstakingly mapping every detail in his mind. The young warlock, allowed this intrusion, surrendering any control he had left to Arthur. The Prince took this as the perfect opportunity to grind against Merlin, eliciting yet another gasp from the warlock. All previous doubts were now eradicated from either young man's minds, replaced by a burning need for proximity.

It was comical how the two took so long to piece everything together. In retrospect, even their very first encounter screamed of sexual tension. The witty banter disguised the desire. Sarcastic grins hid the hunger in their eyes. Even Arthur's comments towards the sorcerer – "Do you know how to walk on your knees?" and "Would you like me to help you?" alluded to something far from virtuous. The tribulations they had to overcome to get to this point were astounding. Death had been cheated more than once and now the time they had would never be taken for granted again.

As if to demonstrate this realization, Arthur moved his lips southward, latching onto the sorcerer's pale skin for dear life. He let his hands wander, skimming down Merlin's slim sides, leaving more marks in his midst. The warlock was instantly one giant puddle of limbs. His head tilted back against the wall, telltale gold eyes flashing as the magic surged at the immense pleasure. Then it hit him - could he even control his powers if things escalated further? The warlock pulled from the Prince's embrace and somberly searched the other young man's bright blue eyes. As much as it pained him, Merlin had to think rationally. "This was a bad idea," he breathed, the words nearly inaudible. He certainly felt guilty about ruining the moment, but he had to speak his mind. The sorcerer braced himself for the backlash, fearing Arthur's well-known temper. All the Prince could muster was a perplexed look.

_What was he on about?_ The Prince asked himself, chewing thoughtfully on his lower lip. There was absolutely no way he would have the thing he wanted most in the entire world snatched from his hands. Arthur, unfettered by Merlin's grave expression chuckled merrily, "Yes, you are right," he paused, watching the other young man's eyes flicker with sorrow, "That neckerchief looks ridiculous on your head." With that, the Prince took Merlin's chin in one hand and untied the blue fabric with other. "Now," he started, swiping a thumb across Merlin's cheek, "as your Prince, I order you to cease with this preposterous discourse."

"But Ar-" the warlock piped up, interrupted as soon he began. Arthur stopped Merlin's mouth with a kiss; he was done talking. The Prince and his manservant picked up where they had left off, kissing with a newfound vigor. Their hands roaming across skin that had yet to be explored, following slopes and curves, raising goose flesh where they lingered. Breathing was irrelevant. Kissing was now the only nourishment needed and the two young men kissed as if they had been starved their entire lives. "Arthur," Merlin sighed contently as the Prince brushed his lips up the sorcerer's jaw, "you're brilliant."

The young man in question chuckled quietly, "Of course I'm brilliant," Arthur agreed, punctuating his speech with a kiss on Merlin's left cheek bone, "Besides, when I'm happy, good things happen for _all_ parties involved." The young warlock's eyes widened considerably at the Prince's statement. Arthur really didn't muck about when it came to this sort of thing.

"Well, Sire," Merlin drawled, his voice filled with mock formality, "I couldn't be more thrilled, however, I'm afraid the sun is up."

"It appears you are correct, Merlin," the Prince agreed, carrying on with his manservant's charade, "what a pity."

"Indeed. Perhaps we can carry on with our clandestine tryst another time."

"It could be arranged," Arthur answered, flashing his teeth in a wolfish grin. The Prince turned to leave, but Merlin pulled the other young man towards him by his lapels and kissed him hard. Moments passed and the sorcerer pulled apart from the Prince, thoroughly satisfied with the completely wrecked look on Arthur's face.

"Until later, my liege," Merlin confirmed, bowing low, refusing to break eye contact with Arthur. He walked away, the Prince watching as he rounded the corner and out of sight. He remained leaning against the wall, replaying the scenes in his head. This was certainly going to be a very enjoyable endeavor.

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**A/N x2: Aren't you all so lucky? Two author's notes! This kind of ended on a TOO BE CONTINUED suggestion, did it not? Perhaps if I am feeling particularly kind & if people actually like this I shall write a sequel! A smutty sequel! HAHA! I'm such horrible tease!**


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